


As Fate Would Have It

by Dino_andTiger_Fest



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Crossing Timelines, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dino_andTiger_Fest/pseuds/Dino_andTiger_Fest
Summary: “Do you think it possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?”  Tyler Knott Gregson





	As Fate Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #26
> 
> Author’s Notes: To my prompter, I have to say that your entire prompt was absolutely perfect. The best prompt I’ve ever had the pleasure of coming across! Though I don’t know if I did it any justice, I hope you like it! There might be some confusion, so I apologize in advance! Thanks to the mods for running this fest, and for being so patient! And a special thanks to the slightly evil M, for guiding some plot bunnies into my backyard, and for allowing me to cry on her shoulder!
> 
> Written by LJ user [alexa31](https://alexa31.livejournal.com/)

It started simply enough.

He... fell.

He despises these terribly long hallways, with their shiny metal armour, both equal in their lack of necessity. The silence is so terribly... loud. The silence always is, carrying a staggering sense of fear and loss.

Jongdae.

No.

He stopped, squeezing the dusty old parchment in his hands.

There is no one there. There has never been anyone there.

Jongdae.

He knows this. It is something he has always known.

Jongdae.

There is no one there.

He knows this truth, just as he knows never to speak of it, of this voice that seems to haunt him endlessly.

He grows tired of it, this voice; so deep, yet so soft and filled with such—

Jongdae.

“Leave me be.”

[I’m scared.]

Fifty-three.

Seventy-two.

Eighty-nine.

One hundred and twelve.

The number keeps growing and growing and growing, and Chanyeol’s no closer to the why.

“If you keep frowning like that,” his wife said, fixing the crown resting gracefully on his dark hair, “Your people might believe their King unhappy, and in turn, become unhappy themselves.” She finished, smiling that beautiful smile that captured his heart, that holds him still, now that they’re aged, their hair lined silver.

He chuckled softly, “Noted, my love.”

She smirked, finger flicking his regal chain gently, “No mockery, My King.”

They made their way to greet their people, a walk they’ve taken enough times that they would have found it blind.

And standing before the doors that led to the veranda, the King straightened his shoulders.

“Your people are waiting, Your Majesties.” The palace guard said, bowing, hand across his waist.

The Queen nodded, head held high, as she glanced at the King, “Smile for them, Your Majesty.”

“Yes,” he smiled, “My Queen.”

The doors were opened, and the King and Queen were greeted by the sounds of their people.

Smile for me, Chanyeol.

But before he stepped out, out to greet his people with his wife, he found his eyes on the guard.

The guard smiled, bowing once again, his lips quirking up in an almost kittenish way.

The King felt his soul sigh.

 

Two hundred and sixty-six.

“This is a hopeless game you’re partaking in, Destiny.” Fate murmured, eyes on his glass mirror. A deceptive device, holding the fates of many, out in open view, but inaccessible to those who do not know to seek it.

“You’ve told me so, yes.” Destiny voiced with poorly disguised mirth.

Fate rolled his eyes, bothered in a way that he refused to acknowledge. Which in turn bothered him all the more; this cowardice he often witnesses in the mortal lives he observes.

“Not all are chosen to love. Not all are destined for happiness. You know this.” Fate said as he watched a little boy, no older than seven years, die, releasing his parents of their pain, but destroying the heart of his closest friend; his fated one.

“I know this.” Destiny replied, unbothered still.

“Then why?” Fate asked, voice muted, frustration hidden but as clear as day to Destiny.

Destiny smiled at him, and answered simply, “I have hope for them. Until the end of time, until they truly die, there is always hope.”

Destiny smiled at him, “Always, Fate.”

“No,” Fate replied, “There is not. It is as I would have it.”

 

A ghostly echo sounded, ethereal in its pain, It is as Fate would have it.

“If you must.” Destiny said, observing the mirror, watching the tears fall from the boy’s eyes.

“I suppose,” Destiny began, “That they would have to show you.”

Fate blinked, eyes focused on Destiny

“Show me what?”

“That they are destined for one another.”

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

Something felt... off. Something just wasn’t right. And Jongdae couldn’t place it.

But it’s always been like this; there’s always been that bit of irritation under his skin, egging him and mocking him, knowing he couldn’t get to it, that he never would.

“Stop.” He heard someone say, as a coffee mug was placed in front of him.

He looked up into the face of his brother, lips quirked into a small smile, but his eyes held that terrible worry. He felt more exhausted than he felt he should, as young as he was.

“Stop over thinking it, Jongdae. Whatever it is.” Joonmyun teased, sliding a slice of cheesecake across the table.

Jongdae snorted, “I’m beyond the age where I can be bribed into doing the things you want me to, hyung.”

Joonmyun laughed.

“That may be so, little brother, but grant this old man a bit of salvation, will you?”

Jongdae outright laughed at that, equally enamoured and embarrassed by his brother’s antics. Jongdae settled, sipping on his coffee, eyes dark.

“What is it?” Joonmyun asked, no teasing, no jokes this time.

“Nothing.” Jongdae smiled. Joonmyun looked like he didn’t believe it, but he let it go. Mostly because it was pointless to get Jongdae to tell you anything he didn’t want to.

And it’s not that he didn’t want to; he just couldn’t.

How did he explain it? Moments of something; a moment, a memory, a laugh, or a smile.

That terrible sense of déjà vu.

Always—always followed by that terrible ache, parts hollow and parts overwhelmed.

Would this ever end? He wondered, breaking the crumbly bits of the cheesecake’s crust. Was he always going to feel this way? Feel as if he were missing something, missing someone, even.

And Jongdae wanted to laugh. He found everything terribly ironic, having always been determined to win the argument with whoever said anything about your missing half.

What missing half? He would ask, laughing ridiculously, are you saying everyone is incomplete? And what if they never find them? They’re always... incomplete?

He wonders if it’s considered to be karma, that he feels this way now. He wasn’t ever mocking them; he wouldn’t. Especially not his overly romantic brother. He just found it hard to believe; to accept. Who wants to be incomplete?

What if he left someone incomplete?

Joonmyun and Jongdae squabbled over the last bites of cheesecake for a bit, before Joonmyun made to leave.

“Hot date, hyung?” Jongdae snickered as he ate the last bit.

“Shut up.” Joonmyun mumbled as he shrugged on his coat.

Jongdae raised his eyebrows, “Oh, hyung. It is a hot date. And I’m finding out only today? You wound me.” Jongdae whispered with a hand across his chest.

“Oh, shut up. It’s not a hot date. Just—just a date. With someone I met.”

“Someone you met... where?” Jongdae asked as he watched Joonmyun’s ears getting redder and redder.

“A bookstore.” Joonmyun mumbled.

Jongdae laughed loudly, “So cute, hyung.”

“Whatever, Jongdae. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Joonmyun waved as he left the cafe.

“Later, hyung.”

“Oh, and Jongdae.” Joonmyun said, turning back.

“Hmm?” Jongdae asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll work out.” Joonmyun said smiling, but his eyes were serious.

“And how would you know?” Jongdae asked, partly amused, but mostly just too tired to even argue anymore.

And then Joonmyun laughed, and said with such confidence Jongdae found himself admiring him.

“Because I say so.”

Well, that’s that, Jongdae thought. He might as well go home, maybe wallow a bit in his loveless life. Maybe sleep. Maybe take an hour long shower. Maybe anything, really.]

[I know you’re scared. I am, too.]

Destiny walked the hallways with a grace that made it seem as if he were gliding, across a backdrop of millions of universes and their Stars.

Soft footfalls echoed behind him.

He recognized the rhythm easily, and it made him want to sigh, but he would gain too much gratification from that, and Destiny simply refused to indulge him.

“What is it, Nemesis?” Destiny asked, not bothered by the silence, more curious. Nemesis’ steps were much slower, almost thoughtful, in a sense.

“I just wonder, Destiny.” Nemesis murmured.

Destiny glanced at Nemesis, noting his distant eyes, alight with millions of star studded galaxies.

“Wonder?”

“Yes. Why do you even bother with Fate? He has always been this way. What makes you think you can change anything?” Nemesis said, watching Destiny with a sort of curiosity that belied nothing else.

Destiny smiled, “I have hope, Nemesis.”

“Hope.” Nemesis whispered in an almost curious like fashion; as if he were a mortal child, transfixed by a simple butterfly.

“Hope.” Destiny echoed.

They walked in silence, parts thoughtful, parts curious, parts peaceful.

“The Stars look beautiful tonight.” Destiny noted, “They shine brightly.”

“They do.” Nemesis almost whispered, “But he could light up the night sky, all on his own.”

“Why does he never know who I am?”

Chanyeol watched his mama blink, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Who, darling?” she asked, running a hand over his unruly hair.

“Jongdae,” he said, watching the big boy from a bigger school, laugh at what another big boy said.

“Well,” Chanyeol’s mama began, holding his hand on the way to school, “He’s a big boy, and he has big boy school, too, so he’s very busy. Sometimes big people forget things because they’re so busy.” She explained, smiling at Chanyeol.

“Can I go to his school, mama?” Chanyeol asked, pulling his mama in the opposite direction.

“When you’re older, Chanyeol.”

“But he won’t be there anymore if I wait, mama.” Chanyeol whimpered.

His mama laughed quietly, as she squeezed his hand, and Chanyeol knew she would never understand.

“Of course he will.”

(Two years later, all local news stations reported on the tragic death of fourteen year old Kim Jongdae. A drunk driver decided to take a shortcut through the school district.

And Kim Jongdae wasn’t there anymore.)

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

The silence was too noisy, Chanyeol thought as found himself tossing in bed, just to end up staring up at his ceiling.

Something wasn’t right. The air was sickly sweet, clinging to his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He exhaled heavily, before he made his way to his window. Opening it, he stared up into a pitch black sky, no stars to be seen.

 

Well, it made sense that it would start this way.]

Chanyeol sat at the end of the window, leg swinging over the edge.

He knows in another situation, this would be dangerous.

He could fall, for one.

Though being at this height, no one would think that it would do much damage.

But it did.

And sitting on the edge, surrounded by the colours of the setting sun, he watched the young scholar walking across the courtyard.

And for a moment, it seemed as if the boy had stopped, and was staring directly at him.

For a moment, he felt like he could breathe again, for a moment—

And then he walked away.

Of course he could not see Chanyeol.

No one could.

But it has been a long while, and Chanyeol has accepted the loneliness of an existence like this. He gave up on trying to find a way out of this existence ages ago, just like he gave up on trying to understand what he did wrong. How it is that he has ended up here, like this.

Because one does not simply end up this way. Do they?

Breathing deeply, he watched the silhouettes of a few birds against the sun, before he glanced at the bench sitting in the shade of a tree.

What, he wondered, was he doing exactly?

He didn’t belong here, and he didn’t belong here.

Not here, in this place where there is no longer any space for him, and not here, watching someone—someone he couldn’t ever exchange a hello with.

But he felt as if he knew that boy.

And he didn’t mean to hurt him, didn’t mean to haunt his soul, but—

Can he be forgiven? He thought grimly, running his hand through his short hair, before he held it up to the sunset, a constant sort of sadness filling his being at the look of transparency to it.

He clenched his hand into a fist, eyes dry, as he leaned over the edge of the roof. From time to time, he imagined himself in his living body, and purposefully throwing himself off this roof.

But ultimately, he realized if he were still alive—

Well, there wouldn’t be a need for any of this.

And these miserable thoughts help no one.

A sense of warmth filled his heart as he watched the young scholar make his way over to that shaded bench.

This scholar was ambitious, he noticed. Always carrying several scrolls under his arm, and running around as if he could not afford to lose a single moment to anything else.

He smiled softly, feeling terribly sad.

Could he be allowed to hurt someone, as cruelly as he does?

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

Jongdae made his way home, humming as he jingled his keys gently. He passed by a bakery, the door open, and the fresh smell of bread wafting out. And Jongdae found himself somehow—walking faster, panic settling in his heart. Away—away from it—from that—that—

He knew that laugh. He knew the joy it brought, the pure happiness that filled him when it wrapped around him.

But he knew the pain better.

And that’s when he found himself—running. Like he wasn’t even in control of himself anymore. He found himself running. Away.

Away from him.]

Fate is fate, and destiny is destiny.

Though often intertwined together in the same tale, fate remained as fate, and destiny as destiny.

Never more.

The ends to their stories, to those they guard; they would remain no different from that of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans.

Always flowing and breaking against each other, touching gently and crashing like a storm, yet never flowing into each other. They are never together. Theirs was a story that was never fated to end happily. Always so close, close enough to breathe the other in, but that is all they could have.

A torturous fate, one would say, close but too far apart.

Always too far apart.

They were simply not fated.

It was not written in the Stars.

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

“Chanyeol hyung.” He heard someone call as he tuned his guitar.

“Hey. How was your date, Jongin?” Chanyeol smiled as he watched Jongin fold his t-shirt meticulously.

“It was okay.” He answered quietly, eyes dark as he arranged his CDs in a feverish kind of way.

“Jongin.” Chanyeol set his guitar down as he regarded him.

“Was there something wrong with Joonmyun?”

“No,” Jongin sighed, “He was perfect.”

Jongin sighed again, and then whispered, “His smile could light up the entire world.”

Chanyeol frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“He has a younger brother.” Jongin mumbled, sounding almost angry, a painful resignation echoing in the room.

Chanyeol’s frown deepened, “I don’t see... how that’s a problem?”

“His brother’s name is Jongdae.”

 

“Oh.”

At this point, Chanyeol wondered if there was ever a why.]

Ridiculous.

Humans were ridiculous in the worst ways.

From their actions, and their greed, to the harmful things they create.

Fate found them ridiculous, in an almost horrified manner, and of all the worlds he watched, the selfish inhabitants of this relatively small place, were the worst. Yet they live with the thought that the universe orbits solely for them.

How ridiculous.

But—

— How lovely he thought, as he watched a human flicking through one of those silly human contraptions, the picture changing at will.

How lovely it would be, if he could simply change what he saw.

How lovely.

Truly.  
I’ll say goodbye for now.”]

“I have to go.”

“I understand, Your Majesty.” I don’t understand at all.

“She’s—she’s waiting for me.”

“Of course.” Don’t go.

See you again, you said.

But not too soon, is what you did not say.

If he knew the whys to this, he knew the rest of it would make sense. It had to.

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

“Don’t be stupid, Jongin.” Chanyeol groaned.

“Hyung—”

“Seriously, if you can be with him, be with him! There isn’t anything else to consider.” Chanyeol snapped.

“How can I just be with him?!” Jongin yelled, eyes wet with angry tears. “After knowing all that I do, after knowing everything that you’ve been through, how do you expect me to just—just be with him? How am I supposed to do that?”

“You just do!” Chanyeol exhaled, leaning against his bookcase, too tired to hold his anger.

“Jongin,” He whispered, “When you live as we do, you don’t let these chances slip away. How can we?”

“I know, but hyung—”

“No buts. Treasure this opportunity to have the chance to love him, and to allow him to love you.” Chanyeol whispered.

Jongin nodded, eyes downcast.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been here before.” Chanyeol smiled.

Jongin gave him a watery smile, before he leaned his head against Chanyeol’s chest, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Thanks hyung.”

“Always.”]

Seashells, little laughs and even littler hands.

Surrounded by sand and the endless seas... so much could go wrong.

Is there even a point to it this time? Fate wondered distantly, an unfeeling acceptance reverberating in his soul.

“Was there ever truly a purpose for any of it?” Destiny whispered, eyeing the darkening seas.

Fate didn’t answer.

But this didn’t deter Destiny. He was used to it—the ever quietness of Fate.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Jongdae sobbed, his hands buried in his hair, pulling and tugging, try to hide the pain he felt in his chest.

“Jongdae,” He heard his brother call him, “Please—please don’t. Come back down. It’s dangerous, please.”

“I can’t—I can’t hyung. I can’t live like this anymore. It hurts too much.”

“Jongdae—”

“I can’t even breathe. I don’t know how to breathe. I just want it to stop.” Jongdae groaned, taking a step closer to the edge.

“No! Jongdae—”

“Hyung. Tell mom I love her, okay?”

“Jongdae—!!”

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

“Jongdae.” Joonmyun reprimanded.

Jongdae sighed, before he turned to roll his eyes at his brother.

“Stop, hyung. I don’t know what it is, okay? I’m not lying this time.”

Joonmyun frowned, eyes dark with worry.

Jongdae laughed, rolling his eyes again, “I’m not sick, so it can’t be all bad.”

“That’s not funny, Jongdae.” Joonmyun glared, tossing a box of cereal in the trolley with unnecessary force.

“Come on, hyung, no need to take it out on food.” Jongdae smiled, righting the box in the trolley.

“Will you take this seriously already?” Joonmyun snapped, “Something is wrong; something is not right. You’re pale, and you’ve lost so much weight in less than a month. You don’t sleep right, and half the time you’re awake, you look like you’re not really there. Tell me, Jongdae, tell me how there is nothing wrong with this.”

The tension and anger in the air was palpable, before Jongdae pursed his lips, and sighed. “What do you want me to do, hyung? I don’t know what’s going on. I have no idea why I feel the way I feel. And I have no idea how to stop this. So what would you have me do? This is not something that can be fixed by a visit to the doctor. I know it.”

“So, what?” Joonmyun glared, “I just—watch you waste away? Is that it?”

“Hyung—”

“Are you kidding me, Jong—”

“Hyung?” Jongdae turned to see a tall, strikingly handsome guy, carrying a box of milk.

Joonmyun blinked, “Jongin? What are you doing here?”

“Shopping, obviously.” Jongdae grinned glad for the distraction, reaching forward, “Nice to finally meet you, Kim Jongin. I’m Jongdae, the younger brother. You’ve probably heard loads of complaints about me already.”

Jongin smiled wide, but Jongdae noticed a trace of something darker in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you.” Jongin said, shaking his hand, before he turned to Joonmyun. “I’m actually—here with my roommate, if you still wanna meet him, hyung.” He said, smiling.

“Sure.” Joonmyun smiled, ears tinged with a soft pink, before he turned to glare at Jongdae.

Don’t think I’m letting this go, his eyes clearly said.

Got it, Jongdae nodded, but from the look on Joonmyun’s face, he figured he wasn’t convincing at all.

“Oh,” Jongdae heard Jongin call, “There he is. Hyung!” Jongin called out to someone tall, right at the end of the aisle.

He waved back, making his way towards them.

And in turn, Jongdae found himself making his way away from him.

“Jongdae?” Joonmyun asked, looking more worried than he did before.

Jongdae shook his head, slowly walking backwards, as if he were in a trance.

No.

No, no, no.

“Hi,” he heard his brother greet, “You must be Chanyeol, I’m Joonmyun. Nice to finally meet you.”

“You too. Jongin’s always going on about you, looking love-struck.” Chanyeol laughed.

“Hyung!”

And then Chanyeol’s eyes were on him, and he couldn’t escape. Chanyeol’s eyes were dark, smile soft, but something in the way he stood, in the way he held himself, spelt of resignation.

“You must be Jongdae.” Chanyeol smiled.

No, he wanted to say. But he found himself nodding instead.

Chanyeol smiled, nodding in return, before he turned to Joonmyun.

“It was nice finally meeting you, Joonmyun-ssi, Jongdae-ssi,” he said, smiling at Jongdae, “I’ve gotta hustle though, gotta be back at work soon. See you guys around.” He waved, as he left, not turning back once.

He just... left?

“Sorry,” Jongin laughed, running a hand through his hair, “Work’s been getting him down recently.”

Joonmyun laughed in turn, but Jongdae heard nothing else.

Chanyeol—he just left. He didn’t even look back, not once. He didn’t turn back.

He just left.]

“I wonder,” Nemesis began, his dark eyes on an empty dark sky, “What we did.”

“I don’t follow.” Destiny frowned, watching Nemesis.

“I wonder what we did to deserve this sort of punishment. Immortality. Who could want this?” Nemesis whispered.

And for once, it was Destiny who had no reply.

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

“You just left, hyung. You didn’t—you didn’t see how devastated he looked.” Jongin said, looking devastated himself.

“I know I left, Jongin, I was there.” Chanyeol sighed, packing some groceries away.

“Hyung. Are you—are you... giving up?” Jongin whispered, sounding incredulous.

“Yes.” Chanyeol answered simply.

“Hyung.” Jongin whispered, confused and horrified.

“Jongin,” Chanyeol sighed, resting his hands on the table, “What would you have me do? I’ve done everything I can; I’ve always done everything I can.”

Chanyeol reached for the milk, lining it up neatly in the fridge, “But I’ve figured it out, now. And it’s not going to work. It’s not going to work if only one of us is fighting. And it’s hilarious, because isn’t this the most obvious thing in a relationship? One side can’t do all the work. It doesn’t work that way. So everything I’ve done, up till now, has been for what?”

 

“Hyung,” Jongin whispered, shaking his head, “Why does it sound like you don’t want to mean any of that?”

“I don’t know.”]

“It is—hopeless, Destiny,” Fate said, voice quiet and monotonous, used to the ever unhappy endings.

Destiny laughed, “Dear Fate, there was a time where you would do all in your reach to grant some even an inch of happiness. What happened?”

“I learnt.” Fate replied quietly.

“Fearing love,” Destiny said, eyes dark with a seriousness not often shown, “Is the downfall of all.”

It was Fate’s turn to laugh.

“Yes,” he agreed, “Is that not how I came to be?”

[But it’s time to be brave. To try to be brave.]

“Do the Stars know everything?” Destiny asked, running his hand in his basin; a translucent silver bowl, with flowing galaxies floating inside, lapping gently against his fingers.

“They are quite beautiful,” he said absentmindedly, “But do they know all there is to know?”

Fate remained silent, eyes on his own device, lips pursed.

“The Stars foretold a great love for Hades. I often wondered if they purposefully neglected certain truths that came along with their tales, or if they simply did not know.” Destiny said, pacing gracefully in front of his basin, eyes distant.

“It was a great love. Even to this day, it remains as such. What is there to question?” Fate asked, watching a gangly boy slowly bleed to death on a sidewalk, eyes filling with tears of regret.

Of loss.

Destiny laughed gently, “I wonder if Hades had known the whole truth, if he would have pursued her still.”

Fate laughed, a soft musical sound, before he answered, amused and tired, “A Great Love is not granted often, something I would never have thought I would need to remind you of, Destiny. And as it is, A Great Love does not equate to that of a happy fate. It never has. Even Hades would have known this truth.”

“I suppose,” Destiny assented.

A thick silence followed, one that seemed to cling to Fate’s skin, soaking his hair.

Get on with it, he wanted to say, knowing Destiny, and knowing that things were never ended in his favour.

But nothing followed. And as Fate glanced at Destiny, he saw silver flitting in and out of his usually ocean green-blue eyes.

That hollow light.

And Fate. Well, Fate was never one for pride.

“But?” He asked, eyes still tracing Destiny’s eyes, a flitter of relief tracing down his spine as he watched the silver light leave his eyes.

A soft laugh, and, “A little sad, is it not, Fate? Mortals live such short lives, and we gods live for eternities. The Stars speak of love as its greatest gift, yet how is it that it’s an almost unachievable feat? What is the purpose of a gift that’s given so rarely, and often so cruelly? I never could quite understand the need for so much pain.” Destiny whispered, voice a little breathless, his shoulders having borne thousands of lifetimes of pain.

 

And as things have been lately, Fate had no answer.

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

Chanyeol saw him there, browsing through some CDs.

He’d love to give up, he’d love to say he doesn’t care anymore. But even after all the pain he’s been through, he can’t imagine anything worse than that.

But what is he supposed to do, at this point?

How could he not notice how sickly Jongdae’s looking? How much skinnier, and lifeless he’s been looking? He’s known him all his lives; and he knows he’s the cause for it. That their bond is what’s making Jongdae so listless.

So what is he supposed to do?

And he found himself moving closer, anyway.

“Hey Jongdae.” He said before he could stop himself.

Jongdae turned, his eyes wide with a myriad of emotions. Nothing he’s ever wanted to see in Jongdae’s eyes, or be the cause of.

“Hi.” Jongdae whispered, looking ready to run.

“You like oldies?” Chanyeol asked, gesturing to the LPs in his hand.

“Yeah,” Jongdae whispered, fingering the edges, “I do. Kinda makes me feel like—Nothing, nevermind.”

“Like you’ve lived a really long time?” Chanyeol replied.

“Yeah.” Jongdae whispered.

“Maybe you have.” Chanyeol whispered, reaching to straighten the LP that was slipping from Jongdae’s hand.

“Why.” Jongdae exhaled, voice breaking on a sob, “Why would you say that?”

“Jongd—”

“No! I don’t—who are you?” Jongdae shook his head.

“I’m just Chanyeol.”

“No, you’re not.” Jongdae whispered, shrinking back with every breath he took.

“I am,” Chanyeol said, bowing his head slightly, “I’ve always been Chanyeol. Each and every time I’ve loved you. You just don’t know it.”

Strange, he thought, eyes following the boy who was getting further away, another silhouette in a city of shadows, so strange.

Strange how it is that even if you never meant to hurt someone, you still can.

It’s all so—complicated and sad.

“Why does this keep happening?” Chanyeol asked, eyes burning, his face hidden in his hands.

Jongin could only shake his head, his normally sleepy eyes alert to his friend’s pain. “I don’t know.”

“People keep telling me—keep telling me it’s never too late,” Chanyeol laughed quietly, tired and sad, “It’s never too late. So, is that why I keep losing him?”

“Chanyeol—”

“Once. Only once. Just give him to me once. I’d just like to wake up next to him once, knowing he loves me too. Is that—am I asking a lot?”

Is it?]

A small boy, looking no older than seventeen, lied in a hospital bed, surrounded by swathes of blankets, making him look even smaller, and all the more fragile.

Chanyeol could only stare from where he stood in the doorway, eyes soft and smile sad.

The boy looked up, unsurprised to see Chanyeol standing there.

Even knowing what he’d find, and knowing how he’d find it, Chanyeol had no idea what to say.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for someone.” The boy said, breaking the stifling silence.

“Ever since I could remember, I’ve always felt this way.” He said, folding over the edge of the pale blue blanket on his bed, before laughed. “Why pale blue?” he asked, folding and unfolding and refolding it again and again, “Don’t they know that is the most unflattering colour for someone who looks like they’re at death’s door?” he asked, smiling wanly at Chanyeol.

“I’m sorry.” Chanyeol found himself whispering.

The boy blinked, “For?”

“For taking so long to find you.” Chanyeol replied, knowing that this was the only part that mattered, in the end.

“It’s alright,” the boy laughed, “I should have tried to find you. But I was scared. I don’t know why though; why I was scared. But at least, I get to see you, right?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol laughed, “My name—”

“Don’t tell me your name.” He interrupted, eyes wide and hands clenched tightly around that horrid blue blanket.

“Why?” Chanyeol asked, feeling in his soul like he knew the answer, even if he couldn’t put words to it.

“I don’t want to take that with me.” He said, not smiling anymore, “I feel like I won’t ever see you again if I do.”

Chanyeol sat down on the white chair next to his bed, and whispered, “I’ll find you Jongdae. You know I will.” He said, kissing the boy’s hand, so small and frail in his, “I always do.”

“Yes,” Jongdae said, smiling as he squeezed Chanyeol’s hand.

“But next time, don’t take so long, alright?”

“Alright.”

“A leap of faith.”

“What?” Fate asked, eyebrow raised as he regarded Destiny.

“Maybe all he truly needs is trust; a leap of faith.” Destiny said, eyes glancing at Fate, before he turned back.

“How frightening.” Fate replied.

“That may be so,” Destiny answered, “But the moments that truly matter are always frightening. Or else they would lack any kind of worth.”

 

Fate had no reply

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

Chanyeol’s lungs felt like they were on fire.

“Hyung! Hyung! What—what are you doing?!” Jongin shouted, running after Chanyeol.

“Hyung, stop!”

“No!” Chanyeol yelled, picking up speed, refusing to let it end this way. Not again.

Enough is enough. Not again, he’s not letting it end like this again. He’s brave, and he’ll be brave for the both of them, no matter the cost.  
Because in the end, what does he have to lose?]

A deep resounding echo reverberated in Chanyeol’s soul, a constant reminder of something he could never forget otherwise.

Something he would never forget.

“Are you—are you alright, Captain?” He heard his first mate call from the door, eyes dark with worry.

“Of course,” Chanyeol replied, measuring a journey across the map spread out on his desk.

His first mate lingered still, unsure of what to do.

“I’m quite alright, Jongin. Your worries are for nothing, as always.” Chanyeol smiled, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, Captain. But you’ve been in here for more than two days. I’m—we’re all worried about you.” Jongin whispered, wringing his hands.

“I’ll be out soon enough, Jongin.” Chanyeol sighed, reclining in his seat.

Even so, Jongin still didn’t leave, the worry almost a physical weight around him.

“Go on now, Jongin. Or you’ll miss it.” Chanyeol smiled, gesturing to the sky.

“Captain?” Jongin asked, confused.

“He doesn’t always come out, and if you miss him now, who knows when you might see him again. Didn’t you say that he could light up the sky all on his own?”

“Yes,” Jongin whispered, longing clear in the way he stood.

“I’m alright. Now go, before I change my mind and decide to give you cleaning duties.” Chanyeol chuckled.

“Yes, Captain.” Jongin bowed, turning back once, before he left.

Chanyeol wonders if there is any point in the way Jongin chases his Star.

But can he question, when there does not seem to be any point in the way he himself chases?

He wouldn’t mind, if he were never allowed to sail the seas again.

But will he catch him, one day? If he only tries hard enough?

Fate shook his head, “This does not always mean a fulfilled love.”

“It does not.” Destiny replied, serene still.

“But?” Fate hissed, irritation setting his limbs on fire.

“I have hope, yet.”

[Try, at least.]

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

“Jongdae!” Chanyeol begged, banging on his front door.

“Jongdae, stop! I won’t—I won’t lose you again. I can’t.”

“Jongdae—Jongdae please. Please, please, please be brave. Try for me, for us. Just this once, please.” Chanyeol whispered, begging, his head leaning against the door, hoping, praying that Jongdae will hear him.

“Please—please Jongdae. Just once.”]

“Hyung, how long till we get there?” Chanyeol whined, reaching his arm over, rolling the window down, unable to get any reprieve from the blistering heat.

“You know Park, asking me every five minutes is not going to get us there any sooner.” Minseok replied, unfazed as he took another turn.

“Got it. But seriously hyung, why does your grandma live so far?”

“The air’s healthier up here.”

Chanyeol groaned, feeling more sweat drops making their way down his back, soaking his t-shirt.

It was quiet for a long while, the heat somehow having settled over the span of half an hour. Chanyeol felt serene, watching the silhouettes the trees and setting sun created, lying across the backseat, his legs at an awkward angle, and the music playing softly in the background.

It’s so peaceful, he thought.

Distantly wonders when last it was that he had such peace in his heart.

“Oh,” He heard Minseok say, “We’re here.”

As they unloaded their backpacks from the back of the car, Minseok said, “Thanks again, Chanyeol, for making this trip with me. My grandmother’s tough, but it’s been a year since my grandfather passed away. I just don’t want her to be alone all the time.”

Chanyeol grinned, “No problem, hyung. Maybe a few good deeds will go a long way.”

Minseok blinked, “A long way?”

“Nothing,” Chanyeol said as he lugged his backpack, “Just thinking out loud.”

Minseok’s grandmother was exactly how Chanyeol imagined she might be; tiny and feisty, and just as endearing as her grandson.

“She’s a bit pushy.” He heard Minseok sigh, which made him laugh.

“At least I know where you get it from, hyung.” He said grinning, as she pushed the boys along the hallway and up the stairs.

“I’m gonna go ahead and take a shower. I feel like I’ve just had a swim in honey.” Minseok groaned as he packed out his backpack.

“Got it. I’ll go downstairs so long. Call me when you’re done. I need one, too.”

Chanyeol made his way to the living room, a pleasant house filled with warm yellows and oranges. Exactly how he pictured a happy home would be. And he laughed as baby Minseok caught his eye. The entire wall on the right side of the room was scattered in photographs, and it filled Chanyeol with gentle warmth. Memories are beautiful things, Chanyeol knew. He just found it a bit sad that most of his were not this happy.

Photographs of kids growing up together and getting married. Photographs of kids running around turned into photographs of those same kids chasing their own. And finally a simple photograph of just Minseok’s grandmother and her husband, settling down together, in the house they lived their lives in.

“Aren’t you a bit too young to be looking this sad?” Minseok’s grandmother said, pulling him out of his thoughts, as she placed a jug of orange juice on the table.

Chanyeol laughed.

Young. That is what he’s supposed to be, here and now, but he’s not. He doesn’t ever remember being young. Being a kid; happy and carefree. And in love.

“Probably.” He replied quietly.

He perused the photographs, listening to Minseok’s grandmother shuffling in the background. An old, coffee stained photograph caught his eye, and his smile dropped. Minseok’s grandmother was beautiful, but that’s not the problem.

Standing next to her, wearing an oversized flannel shirt and large glasses, was him.

“Ah, Jongdae.” Minseok’s grandmother smiled, reaching for the photograph.

“I put my coffee mug on this photo,” Minseok’s grandmother said, absentmindedly running her hand across the surface, “Used it as a coaster. Didn't see its worth then.”

“He is...” Chanyeol trailed off quietly, his eyes still tracing the photograph.

“My husband. He passed away last year.” She smiled.

“Oh.” Chanyeol said as his voice broke, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she said, patting Chanyeol on the arm, “It was his time to go. And he went.”

 

And Chanyeol wanted to cry.

He wanted to cry for Minseok hyung’s grandmother and her family.

 

He couldn’t find it in him to cry for himself anymore. For him, and for Jongdae.

“We grew up together.” She said, smiling at the photograph. “We were best friends, all the way from pre-school. We did everything together. I loved him dearly, still do.”

“Sounds like—happiness.” Chanyeol whispered.

She laughed quietly, “Felt like it, too.”

She set the photograph back in its place, before she moved to sit on the sofa. Patting the seat next to her, she smiled at Chanyeol.

“I’ve never told anyone this before,” she began, as she poured Chanyeol juice, “But you’ve got me feeling nostalgic, and I feel it would be okay, if I told you.”

“Told me what?” Chanyeol asked quietly, listening to the quiet that’s settled over them.

 

“It was actually me that proposed. I proposed to Jongdae, when we were twenty. It was the most unromantic thing I’ve ever done. He told me so.” She laughed again.

“We were happy together. I know I was happy, I know he was happy, and our family was happy. Not all the time, of course, but we were mostly happy. I couldn’t have been happier, but I knew—at least I felt—felt that he could have be happier. Just not with me.” She said quietly, turning her glass so that it sat perfectly in the middle of her coaster.

“Why would you think that?” Chanyeol asked, but the sentiment reverberated in his soul.

“Ever since we were children, whenever I asked him this one question, he always had the same answer. It never changed, even as we got older, and knew what things meant to us. It never changed, not even on his deathbed. I don’t think he even realized it.” She said, sounding lost in her thoughts, a tinge of regret underlining her words.

“What was the question?”

“How happy are you?” She smiled at Chanyeol, “And each and every time, he’d give me the same answer. ‘Happy enough’, he would say. He was always happy enough. But was it enough?”

“He would have hit me if he heard me saying this, but I always felt like I robbed him of some happiness. I’m not much of a romantic, not even when I was young and silly. But I wanted him to have that; the kind of happiness that leaves you restless and unable to sleep.” She said, taking a sip of her juice.

“It’s hard to know what anyone really feels, no matter how long and how well we know them.” Chanyeol whispered, hands folded in his lap.

“Maybe.” She agreed. “But I always knew it. Problem was that I was selfish. I didn’t tell him what I knew. I couldn’t.”

“Tell him what?”

“That he was missing someone.” She sighed, “He called out to someone in his sleep, more than once. Not a name, but just the way he reached out—told me he was reaching for someone. I knew it wasn’t me.”

Chanyeol!

“I’m sure he loved you. And your family.” Chanyeol reached to take her hand in his.

She smiled, before she patted Chanyeol’s hand, “I know he did. I have no doubt about that.”

“Well,” she said, straightening her skirt, “Sounds like Minseok is done. You better be off then. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, so don’t take too long.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chanyeol saluted, smiling as he watched her make her way to the kitchen.

She laughed so beautifully, lines crinkling around her eyes, and regardless of all the things Chanyeol didn’t know, he was sure Jongdae loved her.

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

“Jongdae!” Jongdae heard Chanyeol yell, the door shaking in its frame from the ferocity of Chanyeol desperation. And Jongdae knew he was desperate. And he wishes he wasn’t so scared anymore.

“Jongdae, stop! I won’t—I won’t lose you again. I can’t.”

“Jongdae—Jongdae please.”

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please.

Jongdae wanted to cry. He wants him to go away, he’s just so scared.

He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to feel this way.

“Please—please Jongdae. Just once.”

Please, please, please.]

“Tell me Fate,” Destiny said, as he scanned the dusty old books hidden behind a wall, “Who do you suppose— did it?”

“Did what?”

“Cursed them so.” Destiny murmured, hand reaching for a book with a cover so old and dark you could no longer tell the colour of it.

“Obviously, the one who suffers less.” Fate replied.

This seemed to throw Destiny. “What makes you think their pain is any different?” Destiny asked, eyebrow raised.

“What makes you think their pain is one and the same?” Fate replied quietly, eyes on his mirror, still.

Destiny watched as the magpies bridged a path across the Milky Way, allowing Orihime and Hikoboshi to meet once more.

“They did not meet last year.” Destiny said, absentmindedly.

“No,” Nemesis replied, eyes perusing the endless night sky, “It rained.”

Destiny hummed quietly, eyes distant and dark with a sadness he rarely shows.

“I find it—difficult to accept; to believe.” He said quietly.

“Difficult?”

“That this is considered a—happier ending.”

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

 

“Jongdae.”

“Jongdae, you can’t stay in there.”

“I don’t—I don’t know what happened, but it’s just not like you to run away.”

“Jongdae?”

“Go away, hyung.”

Jongdae wonders if he looks as pathetic as he feels.

It’s never been like this. He’s always been the bravest amongst his friends.

“Each and every time I’ve loved you.”

There was no lie there, no tricks.

Jongdae felt it in his bones; the truth of that statement.

And he also felt the love he had for Chanyeol, as well; deep and so consuming that it scared him. Even though he couldn’t remember anything, he knew that love. It’s what makes him want to run away.

But how far did he plan on running, is what he wondered.

He loved Chanyeol; every bone in his body told him so. But—something told him it would hurt too much. And that he wasn’t strong enough.

And that fate—would never let it work out.

Something would happen; something always happened.

But all of this—none of this stopped those moments. Moments that made him want to laugh and cry all at the same time. Moments when he knew that he knew much more than he can remember. Moments when he could almost feel himself wrapped up in Chanyeol’s arms, where he could smell the warmth that was given to him, willingly, happily.

And then he felt those moments when it was all snatched away. And that was—unbearable.

What is he doing?

Joonmyun’s always been relentless, especially when it came to Jongdae and what he knew was for his own good.

So when Jongdae found Jongin in their apartment, he knew he wasn’t visiting Joonmyun. Not with the way he looked.

“I can’t—I can’t explain this to you, and I can’t tell you to do anything, but I know you feel there’s something more to what you’re seeing.” Jongin rushed out, frowning.

“Just—please. Just give him a chance. I know it’s scary, I know. But can’t you give him a chance? Just—just once? Even if it’s just to explain himself.” Jongin said, frustration clear in the way he stood, at his inability to say what he needed to say.

Shaking his head, Jongin asked, “Can’t you be brave?”

Jongdae stood there, feeling angry and stripped for the world to see. But he wonders if maybe this has always been what Chanyeol’s felt.

“He—he’s been brave... for a long time, hasn’t he?” Jongdae asked, eyes on the carpet.

There was a long silence where no one said anything, before Jongdae forced himself to look up.

“A really long time.” Jongin whispered, smile sad.]

“Baekhyun, can I tell you a secret?” Ten year old Jongdae whispered to his best friend.

Baekhyun’s eyes widened, before he nodded eagerly, “Yeah!”

“I had a dream and a prince kissed me.” Jongdae whispered, hands cupped around Baekhyun’s ear.

“A prince?” Baekhyun yelled, scandalized, before Jongdae shushed him, “Don’t you mean a princess? Why would you wanna kiss a prince, Dae?”

“I don’t know! But he did! He kissed me!” Jongdae whispered, sounding as indignant as a ten year old can.

“Whoa.”

“I know.”

Baekhyun blinked a few times, before he leaned closer and whispered, “How did it feel?”

Jongdae pursed his lips, before he looked at Baekhyun, answering seriously, “It was really soft. And warm.”

“Whoa.”

“I know.”

[For me.]

Chanyeol remembers the first, a long, long while ago. It was short lived, as it always is, but it’s been the spark that’s kept him going.

“Do you think you’ll love me for always?” Jongdae had whispered, eyes dark and hair a mess.

“I know I will. I will fight for you, no matter the cost.” Chanyeol had replied, pressing a soft kiss to Jongdae’s head.

“I am not that brave.” Jongdae said, moving away from Chanyeol, angry and ashamed.

Chanyeol laughed, “That’s quite alright.”

He pulled Jongdae towards him, and wrapped his arms around him, knowing that he would need nothing else but the happiness he held then.

“I will be brave enough. For you.”

[Two thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight.

Chanyeol watched Jongdae breathe heavily, pacing back and forth, almost angrily.

“Jongdae—”

“Give me a minute. I know I said I’ll let you talk, but let me say what I need to say first.” Jongdae whispered, sounding breathless.

“I can tell,” Jongdae said, still pacing back and forth, “I can tell that you know what this is, and why I feel this way. Why we feel this way.”

“I don’t understand it. No matter how many times you explain it, I just don’t understand it.” Jongdae said, shaking his head.

“Okay.” Chanyeol whispered.

“No, that’s—that’s wrong. I don’t understand how I understand it. But—but I do know—I do know that I love you. And it’s crazy just how much I love you. And I can’t explain, but—what am I supposed to do?” Jongdae groaned, pulling at his hair.

“Jongdae—”

“No, no. What am I suppose— I’m trying to be brave. That’s why I’m here. I want to show you that I’m trying, at least. Why are you so calm about it? You’ve been alone this entire time. How are you so brave, Chanyeol? How are you so understanding about everything?”

 

Chanyeol grabbed Jongdae, pulling him close, burying his face in his hair.

For a while only Jongdae’s angered breathing could be heard, before a broken sob made its way through, and his arms around Chanyeol’s waist.

 

“This,” Chanyeol said, voice muffled, “This is all I have ever wanted.”

“You’re—you’re trying to be brave, for me, and for us. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Jongdae. I don’t know what you thought I might want, or what you thought I expected from you, but this is all.”

Chanyeol smiled, cupping Jongdae’s face in his hands, laughing at his tear stained face.

“You’re so silly. But here, right now, this is all I want Jongdae. All I wanted was you.”

Jongdae blinked, his eyes tracing Chanyeol’s face, before he stretched up to press a kiss on the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth. Chanyeol laughed, before he pressed a kiss on Jongdae.

“Even if—if I can’t remember anything?” Jongdae asked, eyes tracing Chanyeol’s face.

“Isn’t that fine?” Chanyeol laughed, “I get to make you fall in love with me all over again.

 

Jongdae snorted, resting his head against Chanyeol’s chest.

“Has there ever been a moment where I didn't?”]

The Stars are never wrong.

“I told you.” Destiny smiled, not gloating, as he watched the mirror.

“Yes.” Fate whispered.

“Yes,” Destiny echoed, “So it is time, is it not?”

Fate looked at him, and sighed with a sense of peace he believed he’d never have; never hoped to have.

“I told you,” Destiny said, as he ran his hand through Fate’s hair;

“We are destined for one another.”


End file.
